


Yellow

by threewalls



Series: Schirra [66]
Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: 711 OV, Archades, Exhibitionism, F/M, Politics, Post Game, Size Kink, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-21
Updated: 2009-02-21
Packaged: 2017-10-14 09:30:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/147830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threewalls/pseuds/threewalls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><cite>Outside his rooms, Penelo would be the emperor's discarded concubine, but staying here, she's something better.</cite> ~711 OV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yellow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mariagonerlj](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariagonerlj/gifts).



> Written for mariagoner, this pairing and the prompt "yellow."

Penelo knows that Basch is built large, from the chest that keeps her knees well spread, the powerful thighs bent up behind her back to the thick cock curving against her bottom, but he doesn't seem enormous anymore, the way he would have a few years ago. Maybe it's sitting on his stomach, so that she can only see him from the waist up. Maybe it's watching him peel out of that huge suit of armour every evening for the past five. Maybe it's because she's not a virgin anymore, once, twice over, and because Basch told her he's not that interested in penetration rather than telling her she's too small.

Penelo can see what she looks like reflected in Basch's eyes. He looks happy. And he's patient. Basch prefers being more hands-on than this, or, well, more things for his mouth to taste and suck, but she asked to try this, just once. So, Penelo's holding her lips open with the fingers of one hand, while she rubs herself with the other, tight, fast strokes, so that she doesn't stab Basch's thick fingers stroking inside her. She tightens and she comes, clutching, thick, full, good, and Basch's fingers slide more easily out than they slid in.

He reaches out to catch her, but she catches herself in time, leaving sticky fingerprints in the thick hair on his chest. She's not that tired, she tells him, he hasn't worn her out yet.

They have a pot of slick, half-used, but Penelo doesn't ask about it. It's there, it's useful-- a week ago, she was only, only ever Larsa's, so she can't resent whoever else has been warming Basch's bed. From the way Basch touches her, greedy for her skin, her mouth, her hands, rather than just fucking her, Penelo hopes whoever they are visit again soon, and often-- but not this week.

Basch is looking after her for the next few days, just until Vaan comes back to pick her up. This is part apology, part politics (that she knows it's politics, these past years have been an education). Outside his rooms, Penelo would be the emperor's discarded concubine, but staying here, she's something better. Basch can't make her wet with just a certain tone in his voice, but he has never once made her feel like she's a street rat he's deigned to befriend, or that he's the only soldier in the room.

"Stop if it hurts," he says, as she slicks him in her fist. "Please?"

His face is flushed from her touches, streaking down to the freckled plains of his chest. Basch is the most gentle of the three lovers Penelo's had so far, gentle by nature, or gentle by necessity. She really hadn't thought men actually got this big until she saw him, until she held him hard in her hand. Penelo will be as gentle as she can with him, but she is going to see whether she take him all.

She poises above him, her hands, her lips, his cock all sticky, slippery and uncoordinated. Penelo misses the first time, half-deliberate, and they both laugh. On the second, she takes his cockhead, narrower than all his fingers, smooth, but so, so much longer.

Penelo sinks, rises, sinks, breathing even, sweat prickling behind her knees, under the curves of her breasts. Basch holds her hips, but his arms are loose. Penelo closes her eyes; she will not make him try to watch her face. Not seconds, but slow minutes, her dark blond curls meet his yellow thatch.

Penelo groans, rocking without truly rising, grinning when Basch's fingers grip. Basch is silent, gritted concentration. A third gasps; the door slams. Penelo doesn't look back over her shoulder.

Larsa could learn how to knock.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Breathe Tomorrow](https://archiveofourown.org/works/147827) by [threewalls](https://archiveofourown.org/users/threewalls/pseuds/threewalls)




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